The Harry Potter Soap Opera
by Raffaella
Summary: Soap style fic involving divorce, alcoholism, the corrupt Ministry, ultierior motives, extramaritial liasons, and what could be considered sexual harassment. Laugh riot. DG, RHr, and Harry'll stick it in anything.
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Yes, as a matter of fact I do own the Harry Potter characters. That's why I'm going to this crappy high school and not off on my own island somewhere. Right.

Thank you so much to Helen, who helped me out with lots of plot specifics, and to Betsy, who disapproved of Draco and Ginny enough to motivate me to write this, and to Chloe who calls me up and yells at me when I'm getting off track.

Another note: This story has some BAD WORDS and some SEXUAL INNUENDO. If you (or your parents) are not INTO THAT, then DON'T READ THIS.

Are we clear? Good, let's get started.

The Harry Potter Soap Opera

Draco Malfoy got up with a smile on his face, feeling good about today's prospects. Not only was he divorcing his wife at breakfast, his secretary was coming back from vacation today, and with any luck, he'd be doing her on his lunch break.

"_Wow," _he thought, _"I'm screwing people all day today!"_ He continued to grin as he got ready for work, admiring his gorgeous smile in the mirror as he smeared mass amounts of hair gel through his head getting it to just the right boyishly handsome height. It had always been his opinion that his Muggle (and American) counterparts lost the election because their hair looked like it had been cut by a blind man with Parkinson's disease. He believed John Kerry, for an example, had lost the election because of his Afro, and Bush? Please! His hair had obviously been styled to accent his ears, which needless to say, were not his most attractive feature.

Of course, Nader was no looker either, but no one knew who he was when they voted him into office anyway, they just knew that he had to be better then the alternatives.

"_Still, hair as good as _mine_ should be well maintained..."_ Finally satisfied that every strand had been coated, he prepared to go downstairs and face his wife. He was happy about the idea of being divorced, but not so much about his' wife's reaction when she found out.

* * *

Ginny Potter woke up in an entirely different mood, with thoughts that went from sleepy to furious very quickly when she realized her husband was not beside her.

"_Goddamnit, if he is passed out drunk on that couch, I'm leaving. For real, this time, too. No more of this stand by your man bullshit." _But she took her time moving out into the living room, even stopping to dress and apply make up.

Harry was passed out drunk on that couch,but Ginny heardher mother's voice inside of her head, _"No one said it would be easy, Ginny. You need to take your place as a wife and start to care for your husband."_

"_Maybe she's right. I mean, you almost can't blame him. He's seen and heard things I can't even imagine. He didn't even beat me last night, so maybe he's starting to control himself." _The argument sounded pathetic, but she (as many in her situation do) ignored her better judgement and told herself it was just a rough spot of marriage.

Ginny looked down at her husband. He really did look very peaceful asleep like that. She reached out to touch his cheek and he stirred a little.

"Christie? Is that you?"

And immediately, all that love was gone. "**What did you just say?**"

"Oh, Ginny. It's you. I really don't have time right now, I'm in the middle of something important. Love you too." And he was out again.

"You bastard!" Ginny said in a high pitched whisper. There was still about a fifth left in the Firewhiskey bottle on the coffee table next to him and right down her throat it went. The effect kicked in almost immediately, and she went back to the bedroom to start packing her things.

* * *

"RON!"

Ron, who had been fixing his hair, jumped and messed it up again. "What's the problem?" he asked

"The problem is that it's five minutes until we start and your sister hasn't shown up yet!" said Hermione, storming into the room at top speed.

"That's not good."

"No shit. Do you have any idea where she could be?"

"I dunno...Maybe her and Harry had another fight?"

"You're probably right...Damn!"

"Soon as I'm done getting ready, I'll try to get through to the house."

Hermione flicked her wand, and the time wrote itself on the mirror in front of Ron. "There isn't any time, we have to start _now_. If they don't show up, we'll just have to say that they can't make it because they need some time alone together or something."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Herm. She'll turn up arm in arm with Harry eventually."

"I know... It's just that she can sometimes be so self absorbed....I mean here I am working my ass off on your campaign, and she says she supports you, but she can't be bothered to show up for the photo shoot that will announce your candidacy? It's going to look a little funny, don't you think, when one family member is absent from a _family photo shoot_!"

"Well, she won't be the only one absent," said Ron, grinning a little.

"Percy is a disgrace to this family, Ron, and I'm quite surprised you'd think of him."

"You know, you used to idolize Percy."

"Well, that was before he had a nervous breakdown and moved to Los Angeles"

* * *

"Now inhale deeply,"

The whole class took a deep breath.

"Now let out slowly and as you do, release the position and change places so that your partner is on top. Repeat, and that will be our last stretch for the day. You're free to go."

"Oh, I'd never want to leave your class, Mr. Weasley. You make me feel like I've _never_ felt before!" said Melanie, who was about nineteen. There was a chorus of agreement from everyone else in the class.

"Oh please, call me Percy. You know 'Mr. Weasley' makes me feel old." said Percy, who was about thirty, giving them a wink and a smile.

A collective sigh went around the room (A/N: Ew.), and Percy grinned, knowing that with a little more of his charm, at least one of them would be back in his apartment drinking herbal tea by sundown.

* * *

"Morning, honey! Eggs and toast for breakfast today." Pansy said brightly. Draco didn't bother to hide his eye roll as he sat down and started buttering his toast. He looked up and saw his wife staring at him. "Are you alright?" she asked. "You seem tense."

Draco took a deep breath. "I want a divorce." he said, bracing himself.

Pansy dropped her coffee cup. Two house elves scurried over and started cleaning up the mess. "You _WHAT_?" she screeched. Draco winced as her voice jumped an octave.

"I want a divorce, Pansy. Actually," he smirked, "I've already got a divorce." He held out his hand and another elf put a file folder in it. He opened it up and took out some papers. "Zambini drew these up for me last week. I've got it marked where you sign."

"But-but- why? Our marriage was perfect!" she wailed, swatting away a house elf that was trying to clean coffee off her lap.

"Correction: _You _thought our marriage was perfect."

"What is so wrong with it that it can't be fixed?"

"You're what's wrong, Pansy. I can't stand you. Every time I fall asleep, I hope to God I wake up somewhere else." (It should be noted that this was not entirely true. Most mornings, he _did _wake up somewhere else and in case you haven't made the inference, he went to bed somewhere else, too.) "You're selfish, weak, and clingy. You've been in St. Mungo's twice for your breakdowns and delusions. When announce that I plan to run for Minister next year, I can't have you ruining my image."

"Your image . . . " It hit Pansy just how much she _really _meant to her husband, and shock turned into ear splitting sobs.

"Pansy, you can't do anything about it, so I suggest that you stop those infernal wailing sounds and sign the damn papers. I'm going to be late for work."

"I can't believe this. I'm in _love_ with you. You are the reason I get up every morning. You can do no wrong in my eyes. I've loved you since we were fourteen and we went to the Yule Ball together. Draco, do you even remember that? We both looked incredible, and you were wearing-"

"Look, let's not make this harder then it already is." Another false statement. Actually, he was late for work, and he didn't want to be around when Pansy recovered from her current state of helplessness and morphed into rhino mode. "You sign here, here, and here. I want you out of _my_ house by the time I get home. I've rented you a room at a motel, I've written the address somewhere on those papers. You've got two months in there, you're on your own after that. "

"What about my half of our stuff?"

"Ah, our stuff, forgot about that. That would be your clothes, jewelry, and toiletries, along with that abysmal little house elf you bought last year. What was its name? Trixie? All divided in half. There's a list of what's yours in there." he said, motioning to the papers. "You can keep the house elf."

"I don't get it- furniture? House? Broomsticks?"

"Oh yeah, you get a broomstick too. But the house, the furniture? None of them were bought on our joint account. They were bought on the account that I set up a couple of months before we got married. All of "our" stuff is in _my_ account, except for the things you bought- clothes, shoes, etc., which should be split evenly between us."

"The money?" She had stopped crying, but she was getting angrier by the second.

"If you review last month's bill, you'll find a rather large amount of money- all except about 2,500 Galleons, in fact- was transferred to-guess what? My account!"

It was all he could do to keep from smiling. Throughout their marriage, Pansy had whined and bitched at him to buy her fancy things. The irony of the situation shouldn't have been funny, but it was.

Pansy stood up, shaking with rage, and holding a butter knife at a rather dangerous angle. "You bastard! You've been planning this since the beginning, haven't you? All along..."

"Actually, yes. You still get your half of the 2,500 Galleons, though." said Draco,

grabbing his briefcase and heading quickly for the door.

"OK, Draco. Let's play." said Pansy, starting to realize that torturing her husband would give her more pleasure then killing him. "I will sign your papers if you want, **but if I do**, I will _personally_ ensure that you will regret it for the rest of your life"

Draco was losing his (rather short) temper. "Pansy, I'm late for work. You can keep the papers, but I want the ones which require your signature on the table before you leave."

"What if I don't leave?" Pansy asked, lifting her chin up. She was trying to sound defiant, but all she managed was pathetic.

Draco was halfway out the door, but poked his head back in. "You don't want to be here when I get home." he said, making his voice as dangerous sounding as he could without laughing. Then he walked out, whistling, hoping that she'd sign the papers and get it over with.

* * *

Two or three hours later, Ginny had finished packing all of her things, and she did mean all of her things. She wasn't leaving any of her stuff around for Harry to mess with or throw away or give to Christie, whoever the hell she was.

"_Little slut_." She looked around. She knew she had everything but something still felt unfinished. _"Aha! I know"_ She picked up a nearby vase and threw it against the wall. _"Much better."_ Exercising unusual foresight, she put a sleeping charm on Harry, then set to work.

When she had completely finished trashing the house, she went into the kitchen, and Magic Mirrored the house where Neville and Colin, her two closest friends, were currently living. Colin answered.

"Oh hi, Ginny!" He looked at the kitchen behind her. "Uh oh...Um...Where's Harry?"

"I put a sleeping charm on him. He'll be out for another couple of hours. You still have a guest room in your house right?"

"Well, yeah, but Nevy was kind of using it..."

"Oh. You've hit a rough spot?"

"Oh no, but when we were sleeping together, we didn't get any sleep" He winked

suggestively.

"Ew. Colin, I don't ask about your sex life because I don't want to know."

"Homophobe"

"Actually, I feel the same way about straight people. Look, can I have your couch for a

while? I'm leaving Harry, the stupid bastard."

"You're leaving Harry? But you guys were per-"

"Don't start with me!" She noticed a couple of documents that looked important to Harry's work and lit them on fire. "I'm in a very _vulnerable _placeright now! Can I stay with you or not? Cause I sure as hell do _not_ want to stay with my family!"

"Ginny, there is always room in our guest bedroom for you, especially if you don't mind the noise!"

"I'll take the couch..."

Colin looked disappointed.


	2. The Middle of the Beginning

A/N: Hello again, everyone: I forgot in the first chapter, but from this point on, there will be a SOUTH PARK reference in every chapter.

This is the same stuff I put before Chapter One, but differently worded:

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story accept for the crappy plot line.

Thank you to my audience: you continue to email me with ideas, praise, and reminders about this story.

We'll get started in moment, but first, DVD EXTRAS!!

The Ten Most Horrible Commercials Ever!!

10. Aussie Hair Crap Commercials

9.AOL Commercials

8. All Local Car Dealership Commercials, Especially That "Say Yes To Every Deal" One

7. 'Mr. Wendy, Unofficial Spokes Person' Wendy's Commercials

6. Commercials for Embarrassing Medical Conditions such as Genital Herpes

5. Veet Hair Removal Commercials

4. Any Commercials That Use the Olympics as a Platform to Sell their Product

3. Ovaltine Commercials!

2. 1-800-CALL-ATT Carrot Top Commercials

And Finally,

1. "Fitness Celebrity" John Basedow Commercials (only on east coast, I believe. If you live elsewhere, you are a lucky bastard)

Shuddering in agony? Me too. Now that I've got that off my chest, here's Chapter 2:

The Harry Potter Soap Opera, Chapter 2

When Pansy awoke, the house elf Trixie (the one Draco had said she could keep) was dabbing her forehead with a wet cloth. "What happened?" She asked it groggily.

"You tripped, mistress, and the fall knocked you out."

"Oh." she said. "Well, I think I'd like a hot bath, then, with those unpoppable pink bubbles. And after that, I may go shopping, so have some clothes laid out for me."

Trixie squirmed and wrung her hands.

"Well, why are you just standing there, you little midget? Go start my bath!"

"With all due respect, mistress, Master Draco will be home soon, and we will need to be gone."

Up until this point, Pansy had completely forgotten about the divorce. Remembering, she growled. "Just go run the bath! But first-" she added as the house elf started to run off "When he gets home and tries to make us leave _make sure _that _no matter what _yougrab a schedule of his campaign stops. _No matter what._"

"I understand, Madam."

"Good. Now go start my bath, and it _better_ be ready by the time I get up there."

The house elf nodded and scurried off.

* * *

"My name is Ronald Weasely and I am running for Minister!" Cheers erupted from the crowd and flashbulbs went off everywhere. As he walked off the podium Hermione took the stage to make her speech as the Candidate's Wife.

"Citizens of England, my name is Hermione Granger-Weasely and I think you should vote for my husband because..."

As soon as he was safely off stage, Ron made a run for the magic mirror, and tried to contact Harry and Ginny. When he looked through the mirror and saw nothing but a wrecked house, he assumed that the house had been robbed and that Harry and Ginny were probably lying on the floor somewhere with their throats slit. He had immediately done what any sane person would do, and contacted 25 of the Ministry's top law enforcement officers, who busted through the door, SWAT style, a half an hour later, only to find Harry Potter passed out on the couch next to an empty bottle if hard liquor next to him. There was a magical glowing sign above his head, which changed every 5 seconds or so. It went from 'bastard' to 'asshole' to more creative things such as 'clumsy' and even, at one point, 'impotent'.

As everyone stood in shock, the sleeping charm began to wear off and Harry began to stir.

"Unh...where am I?"

Ron got down at eye level with Harry. "I don't want to shock you Harry, but you've been robbed."

Harry sat up and looked around, although not up, and therefore missed his brightly colored decoration. "Oh my God..."

"I know, but don't worry Harry, we'll catch who did it"

Harry had a thought. "Is Ginny alright?" he asked suddenly.

"She's not in the house, but don't worry, if someone's got her, they won't get far. There's a locating charm on her in case of emergency, Hermione's checking it right now."

"I didn't know there was a locating charm on Ginny..."

"Neither did she. She'd take it off if she knew of course, impractical as she is."

"I can't believe we were robbed. How could this happen?"

"We'll get 'em Harry. We'll get that stupid mutherfucker. Scum like that doesn't deserve to walk this earth."

* * *

Several hours later, Draco was having a drink, celebrating his divorce, and his latest deal. Disappointingly enough, his secretary had been transferred, meaning he not only had he not had any sex today, he also had to do all his work himself. Since he never did any of his work himself, none of his work was done. That didn't matter, though. As soon as he got a new one, he could make her do it. Tonight was about being able to go home to an empty house.

"To divorce!" said Draco jubilantly, tossing back a drink. His companion, Blaise Zambini, smiled and drank too.

"Unfortunately, I can't stay long. I need to work on discrediting those environmental groups before their case goes to court and they get too much publicity."

"Fuckin' hippies."

"Shouldn't be too hard...they've all smoked pot at some point or another. We can probably imply that they've been dealing to kids. I just need to look up a couple of examples and find an obscure legal clause or two...It'll never see a jury."

"Blaise, I want you to know how much I appreciate this. Getting my divorce for me, handling that extortion fiasco, the fuckin' tree huggers...all that, and still making me look like a grounded, intelligent, powerful man."

"You won't be thanking me when you get the bill."

"I know," said Draco tugging at the sleeves of his Armani suit. "that the best doesn't come cheap. Nothing's official until the convention next month, but I'd like you to be my Second."

"Well, Draco, I didn't expect this,"

_Yes you did, _thought Draco. It was one of the reasons he wanted Zambini to be his Second in the first place. A man after Draco's own heart, Zambini was obsessed with power. By putting him in the magical equivalent of the American VP, Draco hoped to put him where he could keep an eye on him.

"But," Blaise continued, "I'm certainly not going to turn you down."

"I know."

The two shook hands. "OK, now get out of my office." said Draco. "I need to see somebody about some overtime."

Zambini snickered at the underlying implication. "You know, the closer the election comes, the less often you're going to be able to do this. I know that intern went back to school...who is it this time?"

Malfoy was proud of this one. "Weasely's secretary. You know, the little one with the blonde streaks?"

Zambini pretended to think, even though it was hard _not_ to "know" Weasely's secretary. That girl had been around. "Yeah, I know her." he said finally. "What's her name? Christie?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then." As he walked out, Christie walked in.

"Hi, Blaise! I haven't seen you in a while!" Draco shot him a questioning look. Blaise nodded at Christie, then got the hell out of there.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ginny was lying in the guest bedroom, which was just below the master bedroom, which was where Colin and Neville weren't getting any sleep. She was pondering where her marriage had gone wrong.

_Were we ever really right in the first place?_ _Yes, in school. You couldn't have written it better. We were perfect in school. He was the only one who would give Ron's little sister the time of day. Such a celebrity. And then he saved me in second year. Did I love him out of obligation? Goddamn, those two are loud._

She threw a pillow at the ceiling. The noise stopped for a minute, and she heard giggling.

_Well, at least _they're_ happy. How'd they get to be so in love? Aren't they living a life of hatred and prejudice? Maybe it's because they're gay. Maybe I should try being a lesbian. I could even steal Harry's little girlfriend...Heh heh heh...But then I'd have to do her...Ewwww...Ron's gonna be so mad when he finds out about this. Ah, well, fuck 'im. Holy crap! Was that a cow? I can't live like this. I need my own place. But then I'd need money. But I'm not talking to Harry. The lawyers can sort it out. So I need a job. Maybe Ron can get me one? I'll talk to him about it when I tell him I left Harry. Although maybe that's not such a great idea. But they always need temps at the Ministry. I know a couple of his coworkers. I could ask one of them. I'll call tomorrow._

Something particularly kinky happened upstairs. A couple of creaks and a loud thud were heard. Ginny thought the roof might cave in. She elected to move out to the couch rather than die.

When she got there though, she found Skimbleshanks, Neville and Colin's over-grown cat, sleeping in the exact middle. When she tried to moved him, he hissed and clawed at her exposed wrist. She decided to keep him in mind as suicide option and spent the night on the hard wood floor next to the couch.


	3. Don't know why, this feels like chap 4

Chapter 4

A/N: Hello again everyone! I'm sorry this wasn't sent out earlier, but my computer got _really_ screwed up.

Thank you for reviewing me! Good fortune upon Helen, hermioneandron, and canadianvamp!

Let's be quick this time: I don't own anything, don't read if your not allowed (I hereby put responsibility on you), South Park reference, at least on per chapter, and this fic has lots of bad, scheming, people. Have fun!

Oh yeah, and the first part of this chapter was inspired by the book Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiassin(sp?), which was _excellent_.

DVD Extra

A Misplaced Comma Joke For Grammar Geeks Like Me:

A panda walks into a restaurant. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots into the air.

"Why?" asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes for the exit. The panda produces a poorly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder. "I'm a panda," he says "Look it up."

The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation.

"**Panda. **Large black and white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots, and leaves."

"I swear, baby, it's never happened to me before..."

Draco and Christie were sitting side by side on his desk. They were both looking down at little Draco, who was...sleeping. Oddly enough, while neither wore underwear, they both wore shirts. If someone were to burst in on them, it would be an interesting scene.

"Well you know, it happens to all men at a certain age. I remember this one, only 40..." She trailed off, realizing that this might not be an appropriate time for that particular anecdote.

"Christie, I'm 28."

"Really?? Whoa, dude!" Draco glared at her and she fell silent.

But not for long. "Well, maybe it's all that stress that's going on, not just with the campaign, but with your divorce and everything, too."

"Are you suggesting that I had an I had an _emotional attachment _to my _wife_?"

She shrugged. "Wellllll... Maybe you just need a good night's sleep,"

Draco sighed and said maybe she was right. As a result, he went home grumpy and sexually frustrated.

_Could my day get_ _any worse?_

Karen Coston was the HR Director at the Ministry of Magic. She was a skinny, well dressed black woman who was in a constant fight with the higher-ups about equality for women in the workplace. Her arguments were not unjustified. About 69 of Ministry workers were men, and of the women, 75 were in positions which required a desk more than a wand. For a long time, no one paid much attention to this, but now, after Voldemort's defeat, there wasn't a larger issue looming over the wizarding world. New issues of quality of life popped up everywhere, and women's right's was looking promising. Ginny had figured Karen as her best bet for a job.

"I need money, badly. So I need a job, badly." said Ginny

Karen looked at her, not unreceptive, but confused. "Why not ask your husband?"

Ginny knew she should choose her words carefully. "Harry is a stupid, cheating, bastard who doesn't deserve to walk this earth. May he burn in Hell, while I quickly rise through the ranks of the Ministry and go on to lead a happy life filled with money and cabana boys."

"What?" said Karen.

"I'm leaving my husband."

"Well, good for you! Let's see what I can find you." Karen knew that there was a time to ask questions, and this wasn't it. If Ginny wanted to leave her husband in search of actual happiness, as so many other wives refused to do, more power to her. She walked over to a large filing cabinet and got an apparently empty file folder out. She tapped it once with her wand, and a huge stack of papers appeared. "As you can see, we have a lot of open places. What kind of work experience do you have?"

"None...No, wait, I used to organize books at the school library."

"Uh-huh...Special skills?"

"I can cook and clean...I'm a fast reader."

Karen tapped the papers again, and the pile shrunk drastically. There were only about 8 papers left. "This is no good." she said. "These are all secretarial jobs."

"Which one pays the most?"

Karen flipped through the papers. "You're not gonna like this."

"It can't be that bad, can it?"

"Not if you're only interested in the money. Draco Malfoy is paying about 15,000 more than all of the other offers combined."

"Your shitting me."

Karen sighed. "I know you hate him, but if you need quick spending money..."

"Why does he pay so much?"

"Like most politicians, Malfoy's not known for doing his own work."

"I thought that was what he prided himself in... his aides are famous for well-placed gossip about his self dedication and overtime."

Karen snorted. "Right. But no one suspects the secretary. He gives everything to her, and it's her job to either do the work, or organize it and give it to someone else. It's not _entirely_ uncommon. I used to do it, back during the Fudge/Sundae election. I was on Sundae's side, of course."

Ginny smiled. "That's the first time I've _ever_ heard you admit to being on the losing side of anything."

"Well, look where Fudge got us."

"Very true. It's weird," she mused, "with this being only the second election after Fudge, how quickly we've forgotten about Voldemort. And now we have the press eating up the battle between the Weasely's and the Malfoy's. Was it so long ago that we were thankful to still even have democratic government, after the casualties and corruption?"

"It's been a long time since that was over."

"Four years?" Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"It's human nature to forget things like this. If we didn't forget, how could we move on?"

"You're right, I guess. Whatever. I can't stand to talk about the past for too long. I really don't need all that money to work for a Malfoy. Wasn't my brother hiring a while ago?"

"Got filled about 3 weeks ago. Some little chit named Christie."

Ginny perked up _real _fast. Not only was it possible, it was actually the most logical solution. Someone Ron worked with would be someone Harry would have met. Karen noticed her interest.

"You know her?"

"My husband's whore."

Karen snorted. "It would be. That girl is N-O-T-O-R-I-O-U-S."

It took Ginny a moment to realize that Karen had spelled 'notorious'. She smirked and shook her head. "Women like that are the reason women like us are taken for granted."

The other woman nodded understandingly. "If I had breasts like that, I'd be getting paid much more than I am. And you can bet Hermione wasn't too happy about Ron's choice, either."

"I'd imagine. Look, the money's really just tiding me over until I can get me a big fat alimony check once a month. There are more important things in a job, I see that now. Which one puts me closest to the Whore?"

"Well, of course when they rebuilt the Ministry after Voldemort, they chose a pyramid."

"Yeah, all the stuff about the top point of the pyramid being where mere man can touch the sky."

"Right, but the Ministry is also organized within the pyramid, the theory being that, the higher up you are, the less of you there are. So all the people who work here are put on the floor with their peers. Their bosses are on the floor above them, and their underlings are on the floor below them. As key advisers to the current Minister, your brother, Malfoy, and the 11 other cabinet members would be on the second to top floor, 239. Floors 238-227 are Aurours and all the other DADA departments, 226-115 are the various other departments, and 114-103 are the people like me who are working for the ministry, but not in matters of actual magic." She scowled. "You know, Human Resources, PR, lawyers, etc."

"What about the rest?" said Ginny, who had carefully kept herself sheltered from the Ministry so that she could use ignorance as her excuse to avoid as many of Ron's publicity stunts as possible, because she thought her brother was stupid to run for Minister in the first place, and that he actually had more power where he was.

"Floor One is reception, which is where you go to get to your job. You give your ID, they give you a portkey, and after about 30 seconds you're at your desk. The rest is middle management Hell. Once you go in, you never come out, they say. Thousands of poor, lost souls who go in hoping for career advancement and recognition, then slowly realize that they're lucky if they live another day and become bitter and jaded, seeing that they chose the wrong path to claw their way to the top."

"So the secretaries have their own floor?"

"Actually, the secretaries are the _only_ exemption from this system. Because they work so closely and constantly from their boss, they're put just outside the office. The offices up top are arranged right next to each other, so the secretaries are practically on top of each other."

"So it would be exceptionally easy for me to spill hot coffee on _her_ cashmere sweater?"

"Almost uncreatively easy."

"Oh, I'll be creative alright. Give me the Malfoy job."

"I know you hate him, but this is an opportunity that I'm giving you because Christie's job should have been mine. Do not let me down. Do whatever you have to, just make sure she get's hers. I'll be in touch, and I want to hear all about your progress."

Ginny nodded. She knew that at this point the boss wasn't going to make a difference. She was going to be working in close quarters with the bitch responsible for her divorce, she was going to make her regret she'd ever been born, and if that involved Draco Malfoy, so be it.

"Dominic! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Much too long. Where have you been, Blaise? I've been contacting you, and hearing only silence."

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "I've been busy."

"For five years?"

"Well, you know how it can get."

"Yes, I do. You've been so busy sticking your head up Malfoy's ass that you forgot to pay mine. You owe me two million galleons. Where are they?"

"That's where my latest business proposition comes in."

"No."

"Hear me out. I have a plan where everybody wins."

"Any other man would kill you where you stand."

"I need outside help. Malfoy's got his eye on me."

"Smart man."

"Smart enough to screw all of us over!" said Blaise, trying to weasel his way on to the man's better side.

He failed. "How dare you?" his companion hissed. "After five years of publicly separating yourself from the Cause, you expect to waltz back in like nothing's changed? You're working for the reason I can't be seen in public! You're helping give the man who _sold out his parents _for amnesty get even more power! You're no more one of us then he is!"

"I want you to help me get him elected."

"You didn't just say that."

"He's making me his second! If he were to get elected, then mysteriously die, I could bring us back!"

"You're saying that if you were Minister, you would further our purpose as opposed to your own."

"Yes, but he'd have to be elected first. You have the contacts, you could make it happen. When I'm Minister, I'll reward you beyond your wildest dreams."

"Surprisingly, I find that hard to believe. Goodbye, Blaise. Don't ever try and contact me again. I'll warn the others. Don't try them either."

"No! Wait! You don't want to pass this up!" But the man had already disappeared. Blaise sighed. It was no use trying to contact anymore of the scattered dark supporters. They knew too well the only cause he'd ever support was his own. That was alright though. There were other people he could manipulate to his need.

"Hey, sweetie...Whatcha doin'?" said Ron. Hermione was looking at a huge spell book. A cauldron beside her was emitting pungent smelling steam, colored deep scarlet.

"We dropped another point in the polls today, Ron. We need a major surge, quickly. So I'm preparing a conception potion."

"What?!"

"There's nothing the public likes better than a pregnant woman." said Hermione. "It gives them affirmation in their own lives."

"Hermione, I really don't think-"

The potion stopped steaming and began to send out green bubbles. "Good, it's ready." she said. "Give me your wedding ring"

Ron shook his head, looking very afraid.

Hermione sighed. "Come on, Ron. Don't you want kids?"

"Sure, eventually!"

"We need the popularity!"

"But I don't want a kid! I'm not ready!"

"Yes you do! You're just underestimating your emotional maturity!"

"No, I don't want kids right now."

"Yes you do."

"No, I really don't."

"Give me your ring Ron!"

"No!"


	4. The Real Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: Sick as a dog. The chapter order of this story got incredibly screwed, and I had no idea until very recently. If this happens again, email me please! Next 2 chapters in November, and I need a beta, because I think that the quality of this story is going noticeably down, mostly because I dont have time to rewrite it like I used to. School is kicking my ass.

I know, this is such an incredibly unrealistic portrayal of divorce.

DVD Extra

5 Pieces of Clothing that Should Really Be Banned, Organized by Level of Discomfort:

5. Those little skirts that _look _like mini-skirts, but are A-line, and therefore don't hold up well to even the slightest gusts of wind. Does anyone else know what I'm talking about? They're kind of ruffle-y, and they don't really reach your thighs...

4. Stiletto sandal heels, esp. those higher than 3 inches.

3. Short-shorts

2. Corset tops

1. Thongs (Floss for your butt)

deep dramatic voice Last time on The Harry Potter Soap...

"No, I don't want kids right now."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I really don't."

"Give me your ring, Ron!"

"No!"

(The credits roll, and the story resumes)

It was at this moment that the magic mirror (which Hermione had enchanted to sound like a telephone) rang. Momentarily distracted, they went to answer and found Harry, hung-over and disheveled, asking for news of his wife.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. In their midst of concentrating on Ron's poll numbers, the two had _completely forgotten _about Ginny. To smooth things over Ron drew on his political skills, using the classic excuse:

"Yeah, Hermione, what ever happened to that locating charm you had on her?"

"Well, at first it was made to alert whenever Ginny left the house. But I forgot to account for the normal stuff, like groceries, etc. It only alerts now when Ginny is being taken somewhere against her will. Wherever she is, she's there voluntarily."

"That's good, right?" asked Ron.

"Wrong." said Hermione flatly. "She'll be much harder to find if she doesn't want us to find her. We'll say that she and her husband are on vacation, if anyone asks. The public loves a romantic getaway. Harry, lay low for a little while. When she shows up, we can get her up to speed. Clear?

"How low do I have to lay?" Harry questioned, thinking about his almost empty liquor cabinet.

"Don't leave the house. We'll get you whatever you need."

"What about prostitutes and alcohol?"

"Really, Harry, that's not in very good taste." She glared at Ron, who was laughing.

"Someone's at the door." said Harry abruptly, and cut the connection.

"Well," said Hermione. "That was rude, wasn't it?"

"He had someone at the door, Hermione."

Hermione sniffed. "Well, I think he was just trying to get rid of us. _Accio Ring_! she shouted suddenly.

"Don't, Hermione!" yelled Ron "You have no idea what you're getting in to!" It was too late. In went the ring to the potion, and Hermione took a long, triumphant sip.

"Tastes good." she said evilly.

Ron looked down at the recipe, which was lying on the table next to Hermiones ominously empty glass. "Ha!" He said. "It says here that we have to have sex first!"

"Not a problem."

"What?"

"Well, really, Ron." Hermione said. She had made her voice low and seductive. "How long can you last?"

"You'd be surprised! By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to reverse your evil little conception charm!" Ron wondered whether this blatant lie was showing on his face. As a rule, the term politician was not usually synonymous with sex symbol and Ron, though not by any means ugly, was no exception. Hermione, on the other hand, was gorgeous. She was not only the _Witch Weekly_ Most Powerful Woman in Politics; she was number 7 on _Dragon_s Sexiest Women with Power. Interestingly enough, Ginny made neither of these 2 lists, but was number 1 on both _Dragon_s Hottest, Most Desperate Housewives and _Witch Weekly_s Luckiest Women in the World.

"I suppose were going to find out, aren't we?" said Hermione.

* * *

There was someone at Harrys door, although Hermione wasn't wrong when she thought he was looking for an excuse to leave. When Harry answered the door, he felt joy rise within his heart. Ginny had come home at last. 

"Ginny! You're back!" he reached out to gather her in his arms. Ginny put a surprisingly strong hand on his chest, forcing him back into the house, while staying outside herself. She handed him a piece of paper.

"I've come to give you notice: We're getting divorced. Since, without your money, I cant afford a big, fancy, lawyer to draw up the papers for me, were going to court this Tuesday to get a judge to grant us one. You can bring a lawyer if you want." She pushed Harry back a few steps, then reached inside and slammed the door shut.

Harry just stood there, completely shell shocked, then immediately went to the mirror to call Ron and Hermione.

* * *

_Gee, that was easier than I thought it would be. _Ginny took a deep breath and thought about what she had to do next. She started working with Ron tomorrow, and she hadn't told him so yet. She muttered an apparation spell, and the next thing she knew, she was in Rons attic, where a strange sight greeted her. 

Hermione was talking to Harry on the mirror. Harry had his court notice pressed against the glass. Ron was completely oblivious to everything that was going on, and instead was frantically flipping through old, dusty, spell books. He sneezed occasionally.

"Um...Hi everybody!" said Ginny. Everything kind of stopped.

"Ginny, where the hell have you been?" said Hermione finally.

"Well, funny story, actually. Its like this: My husband is a clueless cheating drunk, so I left. I'm staying at Neville and Colin's, because they're the only faithful men I know."

Hermione shot an interested look at Ron.

"Tomorrow, I'm working as a secretary, right near you, Ron. You won't like it, but it pays better than anything else I could apply for. I need to go shop for something to wear tomorrow, so I'll be leaving now. Harry, tell your little whore girlfriend to watch herself."

And as everyone yelled for her to wait, Ginny disappeared with a light pop.

She went to a nice, custom boutique and bought five different tailored work outfits with Harry's money. She went back to Neville and Colins, where they all had a nice, civil, dinner, and eventually got to sleep, thinking about how great destroying Harry's life was going to be. Her boss was the last thing on her mind.

* * *

As always, however, her boss was the first thing on his own mind, and Draco was quite looking forward to a little "him" time. More than usual, even. He planned on going home, having a hot bath, pouring himself a drink, and having a masseuse come in to help him relieve his tension. He had almost made it to Step2 when a high scratchy voice greeted his ears. 

"Honey? Is that you? Look, I was thinking, maybe we can work this out after all...Things can't be too bad between us, can they?"

Draco turned the corner to the master bathroom and found his ex-wife relaxing in _his_ tub, up to her neck in _his _pink bubble bath. "Please?" she said.

"Ahh...Let me think...No! Go away!"

She looked at him with a little pout on her face. "You're a stupid asshole."

And then she disappeared with a pop, bath and all.

_Great. _thought Draco. _Now I need a new bathtub._


	5. High Five

Chapter 5

A/N: Two chapters in a week... Don't get your hopes up, I go back to the hell from whence I came Monday, and I'll start being sporadic and unreliable again. There's a Will & Grace line this time, instead of a South Park one. I love you all, especially my truly awesome reviewers! I really appreciate the feedback and encouragement, and it's great to know that people are reading!

Thank you Chloe, for the pokes.

* * *

Ginny woke up, put on her absolute _favorite_ outfit she had bought for work, and went in the kitchen to model for Colin and Neville, who were eating breakfast. 

"Oh my God, Ginny, what's wrong with you?" said Colin through a mouthful of eggs.

Ginny had been under a lot of stress, and this was no help. "What? What happened? What did I do?"

"It's not what you did," said Neville, "it's what you're wearing! Now, who attached 8 inches to what would otherwise be a perfectly fine skirt?"

"I like this skirt! It makes me look professional!"

"It makes you look prude-y."

"It's not that prude-y. And its not like Im trying to catch anyone's attention.

"Freudian slip! You are trying to catch someones attention! cried Colin.

Ginny had absolutely no idea what they were on about. "No, actually, you're just attention starved. Who's attention would I be trying to catch?"

"Could it be...Mr. Malfoy's?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

Those broad shoulders, that tight butt. Have you seen the man?

"Not since the time I slapped him during his graduation year...I'm not so sure he'll be happy to see me.

"He won't be happy to see you if you show up wearing that!"

"It doesn't look _that_ prudish, does it?" said Ginny, changing the subject as she felt herself blush.

"You are Prudence McPrude, the Mayoress of Prudie Town." said Colin definitely, starting on his toast.

Ginny's lower lip began to tremble.

"Don't cry! You'll ruin your makeup!" said Neville, hurrying over with some tissue.

"Look, Gin, just let us fix it up, OK?"

Ginny sniffed. "Fine.

Colin tapped her butt with his wand.

Ginny looked at her skirt. "It doesn't look any different to me."

"I was just checking you out. You haven't been to the gym lately, have you?"

"Fix my fucking skirt!"

Colin sighed and waved his wand. Purple sparks came out of the skirt as it decreased in length and gave itself a lace trim. "What do you think?"

"I look like a french maid."

Colin and Neville beamed.

* * *

After some negotiation, Ginny managed to get out wearing a white satin skirt with black lace, shorter than she would have liked, longer than Colin and Neville would have liked. She was so busy surreptitiously pulling the skirt down on the bus that it wasnt until she was just outside the giant pyramid of the Ministry building that she realized her blouse was mysteriously missing two buttons, along with their respective button holes. She sighed, walked in, and prepared to not know what she was doing. 

The receptionist was a kid with 5 piercings and blue spiked hair, complete with a cigarette and vacant stare towards the ceiling. His name tag said Pete. Ginny did a mental eye roll. One would think that after they had gone to all the trouble of dyeing their hair and poking painful looking holes in their bodies, teenagers would at least take the trouble to come up with names to match.

"Hi, I'm new, where can I get my portkey?" she said as politely as she could. She thought teenagers as a rule were obnoxious and annoying, and wondered how she had stood herself at that age.

"Here."

"Well, may I have mine please?"

He tossed a condom across the table at her.

"Kid, don't mess with me."

"That's the portkey. You're a secretary right?"

"Yes...Wait, how did you know?"

"You look like a whore."

Ginny mentally slammed her head against the wall. "And you're sure that's the portkey?"

"Yup. Better grab it fast, there're only about 12 seconds left."

Ginny snatched it and held it at arms length. "Thank you." she said shortly.

"Anytime...Hey," he said suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Can I get me some of that?"

Ginny would have said something along the lines of "fuck you, asshole," but she already felt the jerk at her navel that meant the portkey was working.

* * *

Draco was playing with his slinky when his new secretary appeared. 

"Good morning, Miss." he said, pretending to keep looking at the slinky, but, in actuality looking past it to her legs.

"Good morning, sir." she said with her teeth slightly on edge.

"Your desk is outside. Your work is in my inbox. Sort the personal from the professional, and send me the personal stuff. Trash anything from my wife. Answer any professional memos I'm supposed to answer, read anything I'm supposed to read, and tell me everything I need to know in plain English at lunch today. Can you do that for me?"

* * *

_  
Huh. _thought Ginny. _Plain English equals no words over eight letters long_. Ginny looked at the stack of papers. It was enormous. She thought of the paycheck. That was enormous, too. 

"Absolutely, sir." she said. She gave her wand a flick, and as she walked out the door, the papers followed her.

Her desk was awesomely spacious, probably to make up for the complete lack of privacy. About eight other desks were positioned in the medium sized room, next to the offices of their respective top dog schmucks.

As soon as she walked in, all the other secretaries looked up. They were all absolutely drop dead gorgeous, and any one of them could be Christie. She felt like she needed to say something.

"Um...Hi everybody...I'm Ginny. As one, the group nodded and went back to work. Ginny shrugged and sat down. There was a dark green engagement calender on her desk. A sticky note with small, thin script on top of it read "Put everything I need to do in here." The first note was from Pansy.

_Draco, _

_This is the last time I'll warn you. Don't try divorce. I will crush you, Draco, and if you can't see that, you're a damn fool._

_I still love you,_

_Pansy_

Ginny blanched. The last time she had seen Pansy was a few months ago at a charity function she and Harry had gone to together. She was slurring her words, and Ginny was sitting next to her, trying to keep her from making a fool of herself. All she could talk about was her husband, and how much she loved him, and the great life they were making together, as opposed to Ginny's.

_Aha! There is justice in this world!_ She tossed the note, and moved onto the next note.

_I had a great time last night...Can I see you again Wednesday? I'll meet you at Le Chat Noir at eight. -Julie_

Ginny opened the planner to Wednesday and wrote Date with Julie at Le Chat Noir, 8:00. She put the note in the "Personal" pile. The next item was a lengthy letter from the Transylvanian Witches Establishment for Righteous Proceedings , objecting to the dragon on a recent Malfoy-Zambini campaign ad breathing fire on a weasel. The group claimed that it painted the dragon as being an unnecessarily cruel, carnivorous killer, and demanded a public apology at their monthly assembly. Ginny made the note, and moved on.

* * *

"Hey baby..." Percy (A/N: You might remember him from Chapter One) opened his eyes to last nights conquest, a skinny girl with dark brown hair named Melissa. 

"When does your next class start?"

"I'm teaching interpretive dance at noon."

"Just enough time for a cup of green tea, then?"

He smiled. "Sounds great."

Five minutes later, the tea was on, and they were revealing their inner selves.

"Hmm..." said Percy. "If you were an animal, what would you be?"

"I think...A cat. Definitely a cat. My turn: Do you believe in magic?"

The color drained out of Percy's face. "No." he said shortly. "What a ridiculous idea."

The girl flushed. "I believe in magic...I don't see how anyone can prove otherwise."

"I need to go."

"Oh...um...Okay...See you in class then!"

"Sure." said Percy, and walked out without another word.

Luna Lovegood, editor and owner of The Oracle newspaper and of Divine magazine, was planning a vacation to Aruba in anticipation of the extra money that would come in when she ran the story of Ginny and Harry's divorce in The Oracle on Tuesday, when an idea came to her.

"Hellooo, Colin, Hellooo, Neville!" she sang when they answered her "How would Peaches & Herbs like a little more advertising space in Divine?" Peaches & Herbs was a Herbology and Gardening magazine Neville and Colin had started in their one-room apartment just out of school. Neville had written, and Colin had photographed, and, over eight years, the magazine flourished to the point where they could afford a two floor house and hire people to do all the dirty work for them. This lead to a lot of spare time and money, which they utilized by throwing rockin' parties whenever they felt like it. Divine was a woman's lifestyle magazine, and Peaches & Herbs depended on it to attract much of their audience.

"Of course we'd like it, the question is what do we have to do to get it?"

"I'm doing a feature on Harry and Ginny's divorce in the Oracle, but I thought it would be good to do a sister piece in Divine, giving Ginny's take on the divorce, with an interview and a photo shoot. It'll come out a month or so from now, and I need you to help me convince her to do it."

Neville and Colin looked at each other.

"Come on," said Luna. "She needs the self esteem boost."

"How much ad space?"

"Two full page ads." In advertising terms, this was a pretty big freebie, about 30,000 galleons, but a cover story with Ginny, who was normally camera shy, would be more than worth it.

"Done. We can ambush her after her divorce hearing, when she's angry at Harry and wants revenge."

"Great, when's the hearing?"

"Tuesday, but I don't know when she gets back. Let's all go to dinner Wednesday, meet here at 7:30?"

"Absolutely. You two are just my favorite two people _ever_!"

* * *

Draco was so busy trying to beat his current record (18) for number of books he could make his slinky walk down that he almost lost track of the time. Fortunately, he looked at the clock in time to realize that Ron would be going out to lunch soon, and now would be the opportune moment to hit on his new secretary.

* * *

Ginny answered the final memo in a haze of boredom. In the past four hours, she had been through every type of conceivable letter that existed. She had scheduled at least eight dates with different women, along with conventions, speeches, and other campaign activities. Along with 3 more letters from Pansy, one of which was too tear stained to even read, another of which was so suggestive that Ginny blushed reading it, Draco had also received letters from a cult of at least fifty women calling themselves "The Guardians" who wanted Draco to submit to a sexual ritual involving auto-erotic asphyxiation and whips. Ginny wasn't sure if he would be interested, and put it into the pile of stuff he should read himself.

All in all, she was so ready to leave off her tasks that she didn't think twice when Draco suggested she brief him on his upcoming events over lunch.

* * *

Ron was a different story. He came out of his office mid coffee sip, just in time to hear, "How about we talk about this over lunch?" come out of the mouth of the slimy git, and his angelic sister answer "OK." 

But by the time he finished choking on his drink, they were already out the door.


	6. Six, At long last

A/N: (Slowly) recovering from writer's block…Bet you thought I had had it with this story, huh? Don't worry, if I want to discontinue this story, I'll make a post, and at least attempt to tie up loose ends. As always, there is a South Park reference, and this time, a Pirates of the Caribbean one, too. Kudos to you if you can find them! Next chapter up...Ugh...I have 2 weeks of exams coming soon, but I'll see.

The Five Most Nauseating Things about Christmas (DVD extra):

5."(Basic Cable Network here) Original Christmas movies" put out by such networks as Hallmark, Lifetime, USA, TNT, TBS, etc. And there's no love lost for ABC Family, either.

4. Eggnog. Slimy, overly sweet, and absolutely disgusting.

3. Modern/Remade Christmas carols: Insanely catchy and horribly annoying, these are not the Silent Night and First Noel you know and love. These are those grating, awful songs you'd rather drink eggnog then listen to. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, All I Want for Christmas… (Is My two Front Teeth). You know the type.

2. All Your Idiot Friends, who find it necessary to send you Christmas cards, then expect you to go out and blow four bucks at Hallmark just for their own personal confirmation that you are their friend. Because they can't just call you or anything.

1. Politically Correct references to "The Holidays"/ "The Holiday Season", etc. People, I am here, as a Jew, to inform you that it's okay to say _Christmas_. Hanukkah, to Jews, is not that big of a deal. It's more offensive to try and equate it with Christmas then it is to leave it out entirely.

Also, as ramora13 justly pointed out, there were no DVD extras in Chapter Five, so here are, for your enjoyment:

Top 3 Most Completely Ridiculous Song Lyrics:

3. "You'll somehow find/ You and I collide" From "Collide" (surprise, surprise) by Howie Day (I mean, come on. Is there no better verb? Collide, a word commonly used to describe car crashes, football tackles, and the way an asteroid may impact the earth, is, however, not a word commonly used to pick up chicks . There is a reason for this, and that reason is not that no one had been creative enough to think of "collide" in this context until Howie Day. The reason is that this usage of "collide" is just plain stupid.)

2. "When I'm hurtin', baby/ I ain't happy, baby" From "Burn" by Usher (Thank you, Usher, for this profound insight into the depths of your feelings)

1. "If this ain't the truth/ Then hopefully it's not a lie" From "My Place" by Nelly (Nelly, coincidentally, from the same "No shit, Sherlock" Songwriting School that turned out Usher.

Chapter 6

"Yes, um, well then…Let's get started, shall we?"

Ginny was distinctly uncomfortable. She was sitting in Le Chat Noir, the upper class restaurant where Draco would be taking his date, Julie, the day after tomorrow. Her boss was sitting across from her, eyeing her like a particularly juicy piece of steak. In response to her question, he smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Uh…" Ginny continued. "So, this is your engagement calendar… And this week you have three dates with…three different women. Heh. You're also giving four speeches, five interviews, and you have a meeting with your divorce lawyer on Friday. This weekend, you have several other speeches and events. Let's start with today, shall we?"

He smiled a little wider. Ginny wished he'd stop smiling at her. It was unnerving. But it wasn't a bad smile. Provided she was noticing, which she wasn't. It was sort of a Cheshire Cat smile: wide, but still predatory.

"Well," she said, "Today, Minister Peters is calling an afternoon conference at 3:30 to plan the week's agenda, as well as to go over long term plans. He also noted that you did not attend the morning briefing, and that he would appreciate it if you would at least pretend to care about your job. Tonight, you have an interview with Marsha Jansen on Living Like a Queen. Her people sent over the questions she'll ask you, and your speech writer has written in key points for you to bring up in your answers. Remember that her audience is mostly flamboyant young gay men."

"Why the Hell should I talk to flamboyant young gay men?"

"It's an untapped audience…Most of them have a lot of expendable income: Few have children, and our statistics show they tend to be career oriented. Not only are their donations to your campaign helpful, your support on critical issues such as gays in the magical world help your image as a future oriented progressive who will unify the wizarding world."

"I'm a conservative."

"Not anymore."

Before Draco could respond, the waiter came to take their orders.

"Well," said Draco, "I think that she'll have a salad, and I'll go with the steak and potatoes."

"Certainly, sir," said the waiter, who was kissing Draco's ass for tips. "And what would you like to drink?"

"We'll take a pitcher of iced tea."

"That'll be right there."

"Thank you. "

Ginny was furious. Who did he think he was, to order for her? A salad, while he got steak! "Mr. Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth, "I found that previous exchange highly inappropriate. To order my food for me was chauvinist and rude, and I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge my independence as a separate being by allowing me to order my own food next time."

Draco was too busy staring at Ginny's chest to notice that she had been talking.

"I'm sorry," he said without looking up, "did you say something?"

"I was saying that you need to let me order my own food, as opposed to assuming you know what I want."

"Oh," said Draco, "But I _do_ know what you want. And I want it to. So let's say we skip the flirting, dating, and bases one through three, and instead just mosey back to the office and have a fuck on the desk."

"You're a disgusting pig."

"Yes, but I'm also a damn good screw."

And so passed the rest of their lunch.

* * *

The most interesting thing about Draco taking his new secretary to lunch just to make Ron mad was that he had absolutely no idea who his new secretary was. He just thought he'd flaunt his new bachelordom in Ron's face for a while. So one can imagine his surprise when he came back, settled down in his office with some high quality wizard porn (for all his trying, he was still impotent as could be), and was almost immediately interrupted by an angry rival with coffee stains all down the front of his robes.

"And what the Hell do you think you're doing?" asked Draco indignantly, almost knocking his desk over in his hasty attempt to hide the magazine under it.

"I'm here to ask you what the Hell you think you're doing!" yelled Ron. It was fortunate for the rest of the building that the walls to Draco's office had been sound proofed.

"Um…" said Draco. "And what would you be talking about…?" He wanted Ron out of his office. He didn't like angry Weasely's anymore than he liked them in the best of tempers.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Why in the _Hell_ would you take my sister out to lunch?"

Realization hit Draco. "Uh…She's my _secretary_…" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, just to piss Ron off.

"That's right! And Ginny would never be anything more than that to someone like you, so you can keep your dirty mouth off of her honor!"

"That's not what she told me to do with my mouth."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm gonna whoop your ass good!" He threw a punch, and Draco barely dodged. Ron went tumbling out of control and went face first onto the floor.

There was a knock at the door, and Ron, who didn't want to be seen openly brawling with his political rival (bad publicity), scrambled under the desk.

"Umm…" Ginny poked her head in. "Excuse me, but a woman named Stacy Rect just owled you wondering where you were for your racquet ball date this afternoon…" She was slightly confused about this, because she'd always thought racquet ball was a Muggle sport.

There was a loud thunk as Ron noticed the porn under the desk with him and accidentally slammed his head on the underside of the desk An idea came to him, and he slid the magazine in plain sight on the desk top.

"She says be sure to come tomorrow, and make sure your equipment is well oiled and ready for a work out."

She spotted the porn, and raised her eyebrows. "Sorry to …disturb your _work_." _Jesus_, she thought, _Men_.

As the door clicked shut, a growl rose from behind the desk. "Alright, shit head. Time for you to get your ass beat."

"Bring it on, bitch."

* * *

Over on the more evil side of the story, Hermione whistled as she mixed up a potion to bring out a sexier side to Ron. The Archives, where she worked, were the largest library in the wizarding world. Excepting the little bastards who came on school field trips, most people were completely ignorant of the insane wealth of information the Archives held, and Hermione pretty much had the place to herself.

She was so used to this perfect isolation, in fact, that she didn't notice Blaise until he snuck up behind her and yelled "Hermione!" into her ear, just as she added the orange rind. This really wasn't a good idea, and before he knew it, Blaise was on his back, paralyzed from the neck down.

"How can I help you, Mr. Zambini?" asked Hermione, not lowering her wand.

"Oh, I'm just stopping in, really. Wanted to hear your wonderful voice."

"Well, this is my voice asking you to leave." Blaise looked at himself, and then back at Hermione. She sighed and flicked her wand, removing the spell.

"Gee, Hermione, do you have a little sand in your vagina?" saidBlaise as he dusted himself off. "Hmm…I see a love potion there. Are you on the outs with Ron? I'm always available."

"You always let me know you're available, Blaise, and somehow, I am never surprised."

"You know, we used to date."

"Really?" said Hermione with just a _trace_ of sarcasm. "Well, thanks for letting me know."

Blaise huffed. "I thought we had fun!"

"It was a low point in my life." said Hermione, bringing her potion to a boil.

"I've got a preposition for you"

Hermione smirked. "A _proposition_?" Blaise loved $6 words, but often had no idea of the actual context in which they were meant to be used.

"Yeah, that."

"Oh, this should be good. What kind of proposition would this be?"

Blaise leaned a little closer. "I can get you out of this two-bit routine you call life. I can make you the most powerful woman in the wizarding world"

Power was something Hermione always felt she could use more of. "How do you plan to accomplish that?" she asked, feeling her breath catch in her throat.

* * *

Around 3 pm

"I want her gone." Draco was in Karen Coston's office, sporting two post-Ron's-visit black eyes. "She's more trouble than she's worth."

Karen looked down her nose at Draco. "Uh-huh. What is the reason for this request of termination?"

"Every time I try to talk to her, her brother beats me up."

"Mr. Malfoy, I am disinclined to aquiest your request. You don't want to fire Ginny because of her brother, you just want a busty blonde secretary, you chauvinist pig." Nothing pissed Karen off more then some self important shmuck who couldn't see women as anything other than sex objects for his own personal pleasure.

"No! Honestly, I find Ginny very attra-"

"Save it, asshole. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I have to deal with your masogynist bullshit! Ginny is there until I say otherwise. Now get out of my office."

* * *

Back in his own office, Draco settled down with a bottle of Firewhiskey and wondered how his quality of life had gotten so low, so fast.

* * *

A Serious Moment:

Thank you so much to all of my reviewers, because if you hadn't reviewed, I _never_ would have continued to write this story. HelenTheFreakazoid, jenny, Chloe, CanadianVamp, entrancer, ramora13, infiltrate the enemy fat kid, Adrenalina, dorklord23, and henrietta-Black…I adore you. And all of you who are reading silently, please review, your opinions mean so much to me.

Thus concludes this Serious Moment. Don't worry, by the next chapter, I will have returned to tasteless sexual jokes and blatant disregard for moral standards.

* * *


	7. What chapter is this again?

A/N: Well, I was sitting on my ass watching Buffy, rooting for the vampires to kill Sarah Michelle Gellar as usual, when I thought: _Hey, I should write another chapter_. So here's to my reviewers, my awesome beta threadsofregret, and hoping the All-Powerful Creativity Gods remain with me.

To give credit where credit is due: One of Pansy's fantasies (the superglue one) has been lifted out of context from The Onion (it's original context referred to suitable endings for Bennifer in the movie Gigli). Also, the name Jasper Jacks (Draco's PR guy) is a character from General Hospital, from which the inspiration for starting this story was drawn.

Of course, there's a South Park quote, and this one's pretty easy to catch.

But if you can tell me where the name Carlo Carson comes from, you get super special acknowledgement next chapter.

If you can say "Still some static-y sound" five times fast, cheers!

I'm planning on posting the next chapter very soon, and I'm going to be writing all through August.

DVD Extra:

The Weasley-->Malfoy Insult Creator:

Amuse your friends and destroy your enemies with this scathing repertoire of insults you can create yourself! Simply take one word or phrase from the first column, one from the second, and one from the third, and put them in subsequent order to fill in the blank:

"You !"

Dirty --------------two-faced--------------- ferret

Slimy--------------over-bred--------------- rat

Rotten ------------good-for-nothing---------toad

Spoiled -----------low-down--------------- bitch

Stupid ------------son-of-a----------------- worm

Wretched ---------high-society------------- maggot

Arrogant ----------vomit-inducing---------- skunk

Revolting---------- no-good ---------------creep

The Malfoy --> Weasely Insult Creator to come.

Note: (hates me/is a part of a vast government conspiracy/is prejudiced against certain keystrokes) and will not let me use mass amounts ofspaces to create my columns, thus, the hyphens.

Chapter Seven

It was the last reply from the last Concerned Citizen in the last fifteen minutes of Ginny's first day. _As soon as I finish this, I can leave._

_Dear Mr. Malfoy, _

_As a concerned mother of two I must say your position on education is very alarming and I for one am blah blah blah blah blah blah blah_

The position she was referring to was "Fuck it," and it occurred in the context of some heavy alcohol and a persistent reporter. So many complaints had been received that there was actually a form letter for it. Ginny signed and sealed it, and prepared to go home and sleep.

Of course, you the reader know that at the exact time you need something desperately, even expect it, it moves just out of your grasp. And so it was that Ginny, after an hour long wait in the line for the coat check, missed the last regularly running bus out of the Ministry area. Since the Knight Bus did not qualify the center of the wizarding world as "stranded," Ginny was forced to walk the half mile to get out of the radius of the anti-apparition spells cast on the Ministry. She got back to Neville and Colin's and fumbled for her key. If something was faintly off kilter, her mind didn't recognize it just then.

But she sure did when she opened the door—it was the noise level in the house. Neville and Colin had decided to spend the excess cash they brought in doing nothing all day to throw a massive party/orgy combo, complete with a throbbing bass line, bare-assed cocktail waiters serving drinks that Ginny suspected were laced with dragon spit (a pretty well respected hallucinogen, at least by Neville and Colin's standards), and every dignified member of society in very undignified positions. There were at least three couples getting it on, on the couch where Ginny had been planning to sleep.

_This is_ not _what I need right now_. As if to prove her point, Neville and Colin stumbled up, clearly under the influence of several substances at once.

"Ginny! OmyyyyGawdlyGod! You-" Colin shrieked suddenly, and pointed at something unseen just behind Ginny. When she turned to look, Neville burst into tears. They careened away, holding each other up. Ginny set down her purse and wandered around the house, finally finding a spare piece of carpet and a blanket in the attic. She hadn't even changed out of her work clothes when she fell asleep.

* * *

Pansy spent her night in her hotel room, idly doodling pictures of Draco's head exploding, him being eaten by wolves, having his mouth and nose super-glued shut so he would have to chew through his lips to breathe, etc. on the back of his campaign schedule. They were just fantasies, really. What she had in mind was much better. And Draco would only have to wait until (she flipped over the schedule to check the date) this Friday to find out what it was. Giggling, she penned _Mrs. Draco Malfoy_ at the top of the schedule, the same area where she used to write her name on her papers in school—pre-disintegrated marriage and pre-exiled wife. _Four days, Draco. Four days._

_Mrs. Malfoy_

_Mrs. Draco Malfoy_

_Mrs. Pansy Malfoy_

_Mrs. Parkinson-Malfoy_

_Mrs. Parkinson Malfoy_

_Mrs. Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy_

_Mrs. Pansy Parkinson Malfoy_

To hyphen, or not to hyphen?

* * *

Draco arrived at his interview that night for Living Like a Queen _very_ drunk, and the host, a surprisingly ordinary looking guy named Carlo Carson, took full advantage of it. By the end, Draco had admitted that he was only on the show to win votes, that he actually hated gay people, and that he divorced his wife so he could sleep with other women more freely. 

"Yeah, I'm a _really_ biiiiiiiig ass-hole," were Draco's parting words at the end of that miserable hour.

* * *

Incidentally, Jasper Jacks, the Head of Draco's PR Department, was found dead the next morning, having hung himself.

* * *

Draco, on the other hand, convinced himself that the interview was a ripping success, and sang love songs to his security detail all the way home.

* * *

Blaise, who was listening to the interview at home, was getting more pissed off by the second. Draco had to get elected as Minister before Blaise could execute his plans for world domination. 

Draco's voice cruelly came through the radio: "Yeah…My policy is really just to have no policy! You know? Just take it as it comes…Free love, dude."

Sadly, this was a high point of the interview.

_Draco, please, shut the fuck up!_

Not only was it looking like he'd d have to put Plan B into action, Hermione had turned him down earlier, and she was _essential_ to Plan B. An idiot and a teacher's pet were screwing up both his plans, and they weren'tt even trying! Well...he supposed one was...but the point was that the plan was still up shit creek without a paddle.

He tossed the radio across the room with a wave of his wand and poured himself a stiff drink. His meeting with Dominic, an old Voldie supporter, hadn't gone as planned, either. This was bad, because he couldn't take over the world without minions. It was an unavoidable problem that Blaise decided would be much better tackled after he'd gotten some sleep and hopefully, blocked the interview from his memory. As he walked past the remains of his abused radio, he was shocked to hear that there was still some static-y sound coming from it.

"So, Draco," the host was saying, "Why have you divorced your wife?"

"She's like, a total psycho bitch…and I wanted to start fucking other people."

Blaise nearly cried.

* * *

Ginny woke up the next morning still tired from the night before. She got up and sleep-walked into the bathroom, where she splashed some water on her face and tried to wake up. 

…_groklaraplarg…Need…More…Sleep…_

Somewhere in Ginny's mind, a little red flag was waving.

_What day is today? And why am I in this house?_

…_Oh, right. Tuesday. Left my husband._

She was forgetting something. It was screaming at her. But not as badly as her cramped neck muscles.

_Why am I wearing these funny clothes?_

…

_Oh, right, work._

…

_Think I'll go back to bed. _

She had just gotten into her guest bed (which was now, thankfully, devoid of party goers), and pulled the covers up around her, feeling very comfy as a thought came to her.

_Oh my God, work!_

By the time she got out of bed and checked a clock, she estimated that she had about five minutes to bathe, dress, and borrow a broomstick from Neville and Colin, unnoticed (she had one, but it was a tragically outdated anniversary present, and she was also pretty sure she might have burned it on her pre-leaving-Harry rampage.) If she disregarded all current laws and regulations, she could conceivably go fast enough to be there on time.

Ginny ran back to the bathroom, banished a few overzealous, unconscious partygoers from the shower, and had soaped up in nearly the time it took the water to get warm. She dressed in record time, pulling a blazer and skirt from her new wardrobe and blindly tossing on a top she had in one of her suitcases.

On her way out, she picked up her purse, noticed an awful smell, and found that some partygoer had, naturally, taken it for a barf bag. Totally disgusted, she tossed it back inside and apparated to the edge of the No Apparition zone, where she mounted Colin's speedy new broomstick and zipped off.

After a bit of low flying, Ginny realized that her divorce hearing was today. About three seconds later, she realized she was about to crash into a tree.

* * *

Around 8:00 was breakfast time in the (Ronald) Weasley household, and Hermione was resisting the urge to cackle deviously. She had a plan. It was smart, it was foolproof, and it would be effective immediately. Or almost immediately. 

She had made the love potion, and it was good. Completely tasteless, and only a few drops in Ron's coffee should do the trick. Ron would be coming back home to make love to her by mid-morning.

_Ah, Ron. So easily led._

_In a couple of hours, you'll be back in our bed._

…_Heh. That rhymes. Hmm…_

_Drink up, Ronnie, honey_

_That coffee's not funny!_

_Maybe that's a bit off of meter. Let's try haiku:_

_Drink up, Ron, sweetheart_

_And don't think for a second_

_Of…_

_Of…_

Ron interrupted Hermione's last line, which still sought four more syllables.

"Say, Hermione,"

Hermione gave her eyelashes a few bats. "What's that, sweetie?"

"I don't think you've ever been this nice to me before."

Hermione gave a smile that felt a little less tender then she'd intended. "Ron, you know I love you. Now hurry up and finish your coffee."

"So, why're you taking off work today again?"

"It's just so boring in there. I need a day off every once in a while to keep me sane."

"Huh. I've never seen you take a day off before…"

"Really?"

"Is there something else going on here?"

"Ron, don't be an idiot. That coffee'll get cold if you just let it sit"

"Or maybe I'm just more intelligent then you realized, eh? Why are you really taking the day off?"

"Ron," said Hermione with more then a bit of edge to her voice, "I have _no ulterior motives_. There is _no reason_ for you to be _suspicious_. Now _shut up_, and _drink_ your _coffee_."

When Hermione was _irritated_, she _spoke_ in _italics_.

_Merlin_, thought Ron. _Talk about PMS._

He finished his eggs, gulped down the last of his coffee, and was out the door for work.

_Well_, thought Hermione,_ that was easy_. She got up and started clearing the dishes from the table.

_Better work fast Ron. You'll be back home in an hour, and we'll be screwing our way to the top of the polls._

Hermione went back to her bedroom and put on the lingerie from her wedding night. She artfully arranged a few candles and poured two glasses of wine. Then she sat back with a book to wait for the potion to work it's magic.

Ron got in to work around 9:00. He worked steadily until 9:30ish, when he felt something strange happening. He was all tingly in his stomach…it was the same puppy love feeling he used to feel in school with Hermione. It made him happy and carefree. He started to hum as he worked.

Ten minutes later, he was thinking some very carnal thoughts, and considered going home early.

_I am _not _ready to be a father._

He found a boring book on Spell Copyrights and tried to ignore the hot, sweaty feeling.

_Hot and sweaty is good…_

_No, no it isn't. Not at all. There is nothing sexy about hot and sweaty, or for that matter Dragon's Veela of the Month spread or-_

_Godammit.

* * *

_

It was 9:45. Ron should be getting home any minute now. Hermione found a stopping point in her book and started to practice, arranging herself into various sexy poses which would best highlight her attributes.

* * *

"The legalities involved with spells are a complex maze for the inexperienced spell writer." 

_This is interesting, absorbing material that is in no way turning me on.

* * *

_

At 10:00, Ron still hadn't come home yet. Hermione started to sip at her glass of wine. Maybe Ron was resisting for a while, but she wasn't worried. The potion wouldn't wear off for an hour yet.

* * *

10:20 arrived very, very slowly for Ron. 

_I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex. I am not thinking about sex._

_What in the fuck is going-_

_Wait! Not fuck. I didn't think fuck. I thought Hell. Hell!_

_Fuck.

* * *

_

Hermione poured another glass of wine, and cleaned up some candle wax that had spilled over. Her favorite cinnamon candle, part of Ron's anniversary present for her, was burning a bit low. She would have to see about buying a new one.

* * *

It was 10:40, and Ron needed to have sex with something _now_. All rational thought was consumed by desire. Fornication was necessary to continue breathing. 

Ron poked his head out of his office.

"Christie," he said. His voice was not like his own. "I need you in my office, _now_."

Christie giggled. The other secretaries giggled. Ginny did not giggle, because Ginny had not come into work yet.

Christie applied some fresh lipstick, unbuttoned one of her blouse buttons, and slipped into Ron's office.

"Good morning Mr. Weasley, can I help you this morning? You know what a good worker I am, and- Eek! Merlin, darling, do you have somewhere else to be?"

"Shut. Up." Ron was weird, possessed, cave-guy Ron. He did not want to talk. He wanted to screw. And in the back of his mind, there was something telling him not to, some little voice he had to ignore in order to make that wish of his come true.

* * *

It was 10:45. Ron should've been home a long time ago. 

Hermione poured her third glass of wine and wondered whether wearing her engagement ring with her wedding ring was a bit too flashy.

* * *

"Well," said Christie "That was a bit quick." 

One of the downsides to screwing hot, twenty something sex kittens, was that they could afford to be picky.

The potion had served it's unintentional purpose, and the effects were fading fast.

Something occurred to Ron.

"_Now hurry up and finish your coffee."_

"_Drink your coffee, Ron."_

"_That'll get cold if you just let it sit."_

_..She slipped me love potion._

"Bloody Hell."

"What was that, sweetheart?" Ron realized Christie was still there. He looked her up and down, disgusted. He was not at the point of self blame. But he was at the point of blame, all right.

"Why the Hell did you let me cheat on my wife?"

"You didn't give me much of a choice, then, did you?"

Ron was horrified. "You're fired!"

"_What_ did you say to me?"

"I said, you're fired."

"On what grounds?"

"Ruining my marriage!"

"Oh, you've got a lot of nerve saying that!"

"I'm going home to my _wife_. When I come in tomorrow, you won't be here! Got that?"

Christie hopped of the desk and started getting dressed. "You're a right bastard! I'll consider this _paid leave_."

"_Get out!_ What part of '_fired'_ do you not understand?"

Christie stalked out to her desk. Ron stormed out after her, going home. "You go to Hell! You go to Hell, and you DIE!" She yelled after him.

"That's where I'm headed NOW, no thanks to you!" And with that, he was gone.

Christie giggled. The other secretaries giggled. They knew damn well that they hadn't seen the last of each other.

* * *

Ron stumbled into his house at 10:55 and plopped down in the nearest chair. His hair was tousled and his shirt was untucked. He looked an utter wreck, but Hermione didn't notice. There were, to the best of her knowledge, five minutes left for her to be having Ron's child and she was going to take full advantage of them. 

"Welcome home, honey," she said, straddling him, "Let's have sex."

…

"Uh-oh," she said. "Why aren't you hard? Didn't it work?"

"Hermione, I need to tell you something. It's not an easy thing to say…"

"What? What's wrong?" She searched her mind for reasons the potion could have backfired.

"Well, first of all," he began with a heavy sigh, "I want you to know that I still love you to the ends of the Earth."

A bad idea was quickly forced into the Denial section of Hermione's brain.

"And also, I want you to know, that what happened was technically your fault."

* * *

A/N: DA NAH! There's your brand, spankin' new chapter. I hope you like it, and though I will not hold the story hostage for reviews, I still love and appreciate them. In fact, for every one who's reviewed me already, here's a giant Review Cookie, complete with chocolate chips or whatever else you like: 

--------------------------WWWWWWWWWW

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( -----------------------C--------Review Cookie--------------------C---------)

-W------------------------------"Kick ass, dude!" --------------------------W

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-----------------WWW -----------------C-----------WWW

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